


The Darker Half

by Senna_Frost, TheyDraggedMeInNowIAintLeaving



Series: Rare ship creation challenge [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alive Mary Winchester, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Bobby's Panic Room, Boys Kissing, Canon-Typical Violence, Car stealing, Dean is 17, Dean is not a hunter, Everyone Is Alive, F/M, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, John Winchester Is Not An Asshole, M/M, Romantic Fluff, Samhain, Shy Dean, description of people getting eaten
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-30
Updated: 2017-11-30
Packaged: 2019-02-08 20:35:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12872496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Senna_Frost/pseuds/Senna_Frost, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheyDraggedMeInNowIAintLeaving/pseuds/TheyDraggedMeInNowIAintLeaving
Summary: Once a year, from October 31st to November 1st, the festival of Samhain marks the end of the harvest season and the beginning winter, or the "darker half" of the year. Usually it's a celebration involving parties, food and fun. This year, however, in the small town of Lawrence, Kansas, for Dean Winchester and his family, things go a little differently.





	The Darker Half

**Author's Note:**

> Made for [SPN rare ship creations challenge](http://rareshipcreationschallenge.tumblr.com/)  
> Prompt: ~~autumn equinox or~~ **samhain**  
>  Partner: Deadlyangelkay
> 
> This story excists because [Senna](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Senna_Frost/pseuds/Senna_Frost) is a wonderful person who volunteered to help me out and actually wrote this instead of sleeping. If it is anything less than perfect it's because I couldn't help myself but had to fiddle a bit. So all the mistakes, a few of the words and an idea or two are on me.
> 
> Kudos and comments are encouraged

**~*~ The Darker Half ~*~**

* * *

        Sitting in the safe, quiet darkness of Bobby's panic room, with Sam nestled under his arm, passed out in a food coma and snoring, Dean finally started to relax a little, reveling in how good Benny's muscled arm felt draped over his shoulders as the older boy slumbered at his side. Across from them, Bobby sat calmly at a beat up metal table, sharpening his machetes while drinking a few fingers of whiskey from a chipped glass tumbler. They’d managed to make it to safety and Dean's parents were on their way here too, plus his Aunt Ellen and his cousin Jo.

        Looking back, Dean reflected that it had been a weird day from start to finish.

  
  


~*~

        His parents had left early for work, trusting Dean to make sure he got himself and Sam up and ready for school on time. He'd gotten Sam off to school alright, but then since he didn’t have classes til later in the morning, had managed to miss his own bus awhile later, when he got detained helping out his next door neighbor, Mildred, a sweet older lady who he frequently did chores for. Since his dad had taken the Impala to work, he had no other option than to catch the local city bus.

        Really, he should have known something was wrong when that old dude tried to bite him on the bus.

        However, being that it was Halloween, some strange behavior was to be allowed, what with everyone all dressed up, kids of all ages pulling pranks on their friends and just generally horsing around. Sam, at the ripe old age of thirteen, had declared himself too old to dress up in a costume and go trick-or-treating, but Dean, at seventeen, had no such hang-ups; everyone dressed up for Halloween at Lawrence High. Dean knew from past experience, that chicks and dudes alike dug a cool costume and he aimed to please, dressing up as Clint Eastwood this year, down to the sheriff’s star and spurs.

        Despite Sam's jibes about how Dean was unhealthily obsessed with Westerns, (it's not a _fetish_ , Sam!) Dean knew he looked good, and the coolest thing was, most of his costume was totally vintage, from the serape, that had been his great-grandfather's, to the ten gallon Stetson (which had actually belonged to a distant uncle that had been a rodeo clown back in the day, but no one needed to know that) and Dean wore his outfit with aplomb.

        On the city bus, there had been a few college kids dressed up, as well as the driver, a middle aged lady wearing a Red Riding Hood get-up, which seemed like an unlikely choice for anyone not in their twenties, but, to each their own, Dean figured. He'd been sitting there quietly minding his own business, looking over his chemistry homework, when the odd noises from the old dude across the aisle caught his attention.

        At first glance, it seemed the guy was just rocking back and forth, but that, combined with the blank, cloudy look in his eyes, his sallow skin and the way he was gnashing his teeth and drooling, kinda freaked Dean out. Thankfully, the bus pulled up at one of the stops about a block away from Lawrence High, and Dean hastily yanked on the cord to let the driver know he wanted get off.

        Gathering up his gear, he went to edge past the guy and that was when the old man lunged at him. Dean let out a startled grunt, even as he felt the pressure of the man's teeth pinch his arm through the layers of flannel plaid shirt and woolen serape. Dean shook the guy off and ran down the aisle, looking back to see the old man snapping his jaws at the air.

        “What the fuck…?!” Dean would have been embarrassed at how his voice cracked a little if he hadn’t been so astonished at what had just transpired.

        Making his way quickly to the front of the bus, where the driver sat, idly blowing bubbles with the large wad of chewing gum stowed in her cheek, Dean jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the old dude as he rubbed at his abused arm.

        “Watch out for that guy, he tried to bite me!”

        “Uh huh, whatever. You getting off here or not, hon?”

        Shaking his head at her blasé manner, Dean jumped down the last three steps to the sidewalk and slinging his backpack over his shoulder, jogged the rest of the way to school.

~*~

  
  


        Things only got weirder from there.

        Dean didn't have a class til third period, and when he showed up for Spanish II, half the class was missing and they had a substitute. As he signed his name on the attendance clipboard that was being passed around, he leaned over to poke his friend Ash with the toe of his cowboy boot, who was asleep in a puddle of his own drool.

        “Dude, what's up? Where is everyone?”

        Ash awoke in a flail of skinny limbs, snorting and blinking. “Whazzat?

        Chuckling at his friend's antics, he tipped his head at the room, indicating all the empty seats.

        Peering around blearily, Ash shrugged. “Huh. I dunno...hey, you got anything to eat?”

        Rolling his eyes good-naturedly, Dean dug around in his backpack and came up with a slightly crumpled, half-eaten bag of Lay's potato chips and tossed them into his friend's lap. Ash fell upon the chips as though he was starving, a look of satisfaction across his face as he bit into the first handful even though Dean was pretty sure they’d been forgotten in the depths of his school bag for the better part of a week and were most likely soft and disgusting by now. Ash obviously couldn’t care less as he munched away happily.

        At the head of the room, the substitute was droning on about their assignments, which Dean had already finished, and the rest of the class was spent watching reruns of Spanish telenovelas on the ancient old TV and VCR combo. Dean doodled in his notebook, while Ash resumed his nap.

        Fourth period was much the same, missing students and another substitute teacher in his World Civics class. Was there a flu bug or something going around that he wasn't aware of?

        The bell rang and Dean headed out into the hallway, which was surprisingly uncrowded, only a few students milling around, and even fewer costumed up the way Dean was.

        Huh, weird.

        Halloween, or the Festival of Samhain (as their History teacher liked to remind them every year) was usually a pretty popular holiday around these parts, there was a parade and a big party at the community center and of course, trick-or-treating, for all ages.

        Shaking his head again, and brushing off the slightly uneasy feeling at the back of his mind, he stopped at his locker to drop off a few of his books.

        “Hey, nice blanket, Losechester!”

        Ahh yes, no day was complete without a lame insult from the one and only Gordon Walker.

        Not missing a beat or even deigning to turn around, Dean tossed over his shoulder, “It's a serape, asshole!”

        Gordon's buddies laughed and 'oohed' and Dean slammed his locker shut and zipped down the corridor before Walker could make a retort or come after him. Getting into a fight was the last thing he needed today.

  
  


~*~

        The rest of the day passed rather quickly, the remainder of his classes following the same pattern as the ones that preceded them, missing students and more often than not, absent teachers as well.

        The final bell of the day rang out and it was with relief that Dean put away the rest of his books at his locker. He'd gotten all of his homework finished (mostly) and was looking forward to a weekend of parties and fun. Maybe he'd yet talk Sammy into going trick-or-treating with him.

        The walk over to the middle school to pick up his brother was short, only a few blocks or so. As he passed the chain-link fence by the football field, he heard screams and glanced over to see a couple of cheerleaders in the distance being chased by three football players, who were pursuing them in an awkward, shambling fashion, growling and clawing at the girls. The cheerleaders however, were screaming bloody murder and running as though their lives depended on it, and thinking it was all in good fun, Dean rolled his eyes at their theatrics, and kept walking.

        What a bunch of damn drama queens.

        It was as he drew up by a wooded area that lead into a park, not far from the football field, that Dean started to hear some strange noises. The closer he got, the more awful they sounded...loud sucking, chewing noises, like some large predator snacking on its prey. The noises were emanating from a small copse of bushes up ahead, it seemed.

        Screwing up his face in disgust and wondering what the hell it could be, Dean edged nearer, trying to be as silent as possible; there were coyotes and bobcats in these parts, but they didn’t normally come down this far into populated areas, and if one had, Dean did not want to stick around and draw its attention, only to end up being its dessert.

        Moving past one of the metal trash cans - surrounded by old cigarette buds and empty packages of chewing gum - that dotted most of Lawrence’s parks in an attempt to get people not to litter, Dean snuck right up on the bushes, trying to see through them, but they were too dense, though they weren’t thick enough to block out the nasty sounds of low growling and sharp teeth tearing at meat, which sounded even worse up close.

        Holding his breath and peering around the corner of the bushes, the sight that met Dean’s eyes made his blood run cold in horror, and the uneasy feeling he’d ignored all day came back in full force, sending goosebumps racing along his skin and causing the fine hairs all over his body to stand up, making his skin prickle uncomfortably.

        This couldn’t possibly be real. It had to be a joke, right?

        There, behind the bushes, something, or rather, _someone_ , was definitely getting eaten, but it wasn’t by any coyote or bobcat.

        The “predator” in question, looked to be a balding, paunchy middle-aged business man, in an off the rack JC Penney suit, looking like he’d recently dug himself out of his own grave and was now chowing down on the shinbone of what had probably been a jogger or a biker, judging by the neon yellow spandex shorts; it was hard to tell with so many pieces missing and all the blood.

        Dean clamped a hand over his mouth, hoping to muffle any sound he was sure he was probably making involuntarily. Hell, it was all he could do not to throw up in his mouth right now. Even from a few yards away, the stench of blood and intestines was a pungent, appalling scent, the smell of things that weren’t supposed to be outside the human body, and those that were shouldn’t be in polite (or public) company.

        Backing up hastily, he turned around, green eyes still wide in shock, trying to process what he had just seen. The main thought on his mind was: _Get to Sam!_

        He had to get to his brother and get them both somewhere safe. Who knew how far this had spread, if this was just an isolated incident or what.

        Dean almost wanted to start laughing hysterically. He’d read plenty of zombie apocalypse sci-fi, one of his favorites was “Cadaver March.” He watched horror movies. He was a fan of “The Walking Dead” even, but who knew that the zombie apocalypse, if that’s what this truly was, would start in good ol’ Lawrence, Kansas? That was all just fiction, wasn’t it? Not something that could actually happen.

        But fiction or not, the fact was, there was a decomposing dude chewing on another dude and Dean needed to get the hell out of here, like, five minutes ago.

        Alright, okay, first things first. Get to Sam, then get somewhere safe. He could freak out about all this later.

        With a course of action in mind, Dean hiked his backpack up higher on his shoulders and set out, only to immediately hip-check the metal trashcan he’d passed a minute ago with a resounding crash. He sucked in a terrified breath at the noise that sounded as loud as a gunshot in the relative quiet.

        Taking off at a fast clip, Dean dared to peek over his shoulder and to his horror, saw that his worst fear had been realized. The thing… _zombie_..had heard him and abandoned its dinner to investigate the noise. 

        Oh _shit_ , it was looking right at him. There was blood and bits of jogger caked around the guy’s mouth and chin and he growled at Dean, taking a lurching step forward at the promise of fresh meat.

        Dean’s fight or flight instinct kicked in and he broke into a run, not sparing another glance back. The heavy thud of dress shoes slapping against the sidewalk immediately followed him and he picked up speed. Dean had always been of the opinion that there was no point to running unless you were being chased. But by God, he was damn well being chased right now and could only think to himself that he wished he were in better practice.

        The middle school was swiftly coming into view up ahead, and the welcome sight gave him an extra burst of energy. Sparing a glance behind, he saw that the zombie was still doggedly on his tail, moving in an odd, shambling gait, dragging one of its legs along clumsily, but moving steadily just the same. Unfortunately, in looking back, he didn’t watch where he was going and tripped over a broken, pockmarked area of the sidewalk, causing him to fall to the ground, landing sprawled out, flat on his stomach with a grunt.

        Feeling like a horror movie cliche, Dean scrambled to his feet hurriedly, not even bothering to dust himself off. His fall had enabled the zombie to close the gap between them a bit and Dean ran for all he was worth now, hollering for help as he did, hoping to alert someone, _anyone_. Well, except for more zombies. Shit, maybe it was a bad idea to call for help.

        But someone must have heard him anyways, because all of a sudden his field of vision was obscured by a blur of black and red. A hand pushed him down and out of the way and a rough voice with a lovely Southern drawl told him to, “Get down!”

        The zombie, seeing that its number of prey items had doubled, rumbled in wordless anticipation and barreled towards them. Dean, on the ground, only saw the back of someone tall, wearing all black and wielding a baseball bat as the zombie came at him.

        Tensing up in fright, Dean watched in awe as, easy as you please, the guy swung gracefully, as though he did it all the time, and the bat connected neatly with the side of the zombie’s head, caving it in and stopping it short. The walking corpse crumpled to the sidewalk and the guy pounced, swinging the bat repeatedly with sickening thuds, until the zombie’s head was just a mess of splintered bone and pulpy mush.

        Wiping the bloody bat off on the zombie’s business suit, the guy turned around and headed back to Dean, who eyed him warily.

        Who the hell was this dude?!

        As the guy came nearer, Dean could see he was maybe a couple years older, and funnily enough, dressed as old-school Dracula, complete with a white waistcoat and bow-tie, black slacks and a scarlet lined black cape and fake vampire fangs. The guy’s hair was short and spiky, not quite long enough to be slicked back like how Dean remembered in the old black and white Bela Lugosi movies. But nonetheless, he was pulling the whole look off pretty well, Dean thought. The guy was kinda hot too, with pale blue eyes and a few days worth of sandy, reddish-brown stubble, maybe not quite as tall as Dean, but well-built, with corded muscles that were made visible when the guy bent his arm to rest the bat against his shoulder.

        The guy came to a stop a few inches from Dean and with a grin that showed off his fake fangs, offered his hand out to Dean, who belatedly realized he was still huddled pathetically on the ground.

        Grudgingly taking the guy’s hand, Dean allowed himself to be hauled effortlessly to his feet, pulling his hand away quickly as soon as he was upright, backing up and dusting himself off. He straightened his hat, which had gotten knocked off in his fall and hung around his neck by its leather cord. He felt vaguely foolish now, dressed up as he was.

        The guy only smirked at him. “What? No thanks for saving your hide?”

        Feeling vulnerable and somewhat embarrassed, the only thing Dean could think to blurt out was, “Who the hell are you, dude?!”

        The guy grinned this time and held his hand out once more, in greeting this time. “Name’s Benjamin LaFitte. M’friends call me Benny. Pleased to meet you…?”

        Dean grasped Benny’s hand and shook it gingerly, “Dean. I’m Dean Winchester.”

        Benny looked him up and down appreciatively. “And who are you supposed to be, Dean?”

        Feeling a blush burn in his cheeks, Dean wrenched his hand away and shoved it into his pocket, kicking at a lose piece of sidewalk with the toe of his boot. “Clint Eastwood,” he muttered eventually.

        Benny let out a deep, throaty chuckle. “Well, how about that? You got a thing for cowboys there, Marshall Eastwood?”

        Benny nudged Dean in the arm til he glanced up. Benny’s smile was kind, teasing, and a little comical, what with the fake vampire fangs and all and Dean cracked a tiny smile back at him, nodding his head shyly.

        “Well, Marshall Dean, unless you wanna be man-meat for every Tom, Dick and Harry out there, I’d say we best be going. Where were you headed?”

        Dean jerked his head in the direction of the middle school. “I gotta go get my brother and then I was thinking we’d head for our Uncle Bobby’s place, he’s got like an underground bunker and guns and shit. I think we’ll be safe there.”

        Benny nodded his head in agreement. “Well, sounds like you might need some backup, huh?”

        Dean eyed the baseball bat resting casually over Benny’s shoulder and bobbed his head enthusiastically.

        “Alright, chief, well let’s hit the road.”

        Dean reached down to snag the strap of his backpack from where he’d dropped it when Benny pushed him to the ground and slung it back over his shoulder before jogging a little to catch up to Benny, who was already making his way towards the middle school, eyeing their surroundings as though he expected another zombie to jump out at them at any moment.

        Drawing up til he was side by side with Benny, Dean peered around nervously. What was he gonna do if they ran into one of those things? He didn’t have any kind of weapon and he couldn’t just sit there and expect Benny to keep saving his ass.

        Benny side-eyed him and seemed to sense his unease. “Don’t worry, we’ll find you somethin’ up at the school,” he assured, nodding at his bat.

        Dean smiled weakly. “Thanks, man, for earlier, too. And thanks for coming with me to get my brother, I appreciate it.”

        “Sure thing, man. Say, why you wearin’ a blanket?”

        Annoyed, Dean glanced over, but his irritation melted when he saw the teasing twinkle in Benny’s pretty blue eyes.

        Bumping shoulders with the older boy, he grinned. “Shut up, asshat.”

  
  


~*~

        Even arriving later to pick up Sam than he normally did, Dean and Benny found the school seemingly eerily deserted and walked up the steps to the main entrance warily.

        “You think your brother woulda hung around if you didn’t show up and all this shit’s goin’ down?” Benny whispered.

        “Well, on Fridays, Sammy has chess club. They meet in the cafeteria after school, maybe he’s still there.”

        “Alright, lead the way, chief.”

        Moving as quietly as they could, they crept towards the cafeteria, stopping only once when Benny noticed a janitor’s closet. Miraculously, it was unlocked and they ducked inside, hoping to find a makeshift weapon for Dean.

        Perusing through the assorted industrial cleaning supplies, brooms, mops and vacuum cleaners, they finally found a large snow shovel at the back, dusty with disuse, but still sharp edged and with a wide enough shovel head to do some damage if bashed hard enough against a zombie’s skull.

        Grinning, Benny handed the shovel off to Dean, who hefted it in his hands a couple times, trying to find a good grip.

        Without warning, screams sounded out in the distance and Benny swiftly reached up, tugging on the chain connected to the bare lightbulb overhead, plunging them into darkness.

        Inching closer to Benny, Dean watched as the older boy carefully cracked the door open a bit. Together, they peered out through the gap, but saw no one. Making eye contact, Benny shook his head a little and drew back, leaning against the wall of the closet and Dean knew he meant to wait a few minutes until they were sure the coast was clear.

        Tightening his grip on the shovel, Dean tried to stand still, but couldn’t seem to stop his foot from nervously tapping. He had to get to Sam _soon_ , before those… _things_ out there did.

        Side-eyeing him once more, Benny stretched his arm out and drew Dean in against his side, loosely resting his arm over the younger boy’s shoulder in a comforting manner. Dean tensed up at first, unsure of this new development, but relaxed at Benny’s gentle smile.

        “Don’t worry, Dean. Your brother sounds like a smart kid, I’m sure he’s fine,” Benny murmured, trying to reassure him.

        Dean nodded. Sam was smart. Smart enough to hide or fight until Dean came for him.

        Peeking at Benny out of the corner of his eye, Dean admired the curve of his jaw and the long curl of his eyelashes. From this close, Dean could see the black eyeliner he wore was slightly smudged, though it only served to make his eyes bluer. He could also smell whatever cologne or aftershave the older boy had on, something spicy and woodsy, it was pleasantly comforting and helped calm Dean’s frayed nerves.

        Seeming to sense his scrutiny, Benny glanced over and smiled slyly. “See somethin’ you like, chér?”

        Dean blushed tomato red, sure that even his freckles were on fire right now and ducked his head, embarrassed that he’d been caught checking the other boy out, (this was _so_ not the time for it!) worried that maybe Benny didn’t appreciate the attention, but when he dared to raise his eyes, he saw that the older boy still sported an affable smile and merely seemed amused and mildly flattered at Dean’s apparent ogling.

        “Well, you’re not too bad yourself, chér,” Benny told him quietly, winking cheekily and squeezing Dean’s shoulder. “Alright, it still sounds pretty quiet out there, why don’t we head out and see if we can’t find this kid brother of yours.”

        Glad for the reprieve and also mildly confused at Benny’s comment, (was the guy flirting with him?) Dean simply nodded his head as Benny cracked the door open wider, peeking out into the empty corridor.

        Rapidly they darted down the hallways, Benny gamely following after Dean as they took several different turns, finally ending up at set of blue double doors. Peering through one of the rectangular windows in the door, they scoped out the cafeteria. There were some disturbing puddles of blood on the dingy tile floor and many of the chairs and tables were overturned, random bits of food and trash scattered around, but no bodies, living or reanimated.

        Prying open one of the doors, they slunk inside, keeping an eye out for anything that moved, but the cafeteria seemed deserted. On a hunch, Dean headed for the back of the room where the kitchens were located and cautiously pushed through the swinging double doors. Inside the mostly stainless steel room, it was quite clean, with large industrial strength ovens and dishwashers, giant freezers and refrigerators and large metal cupboards meant for storing utensils and plateware. Pretty standard fare for your average school kitchen. It was also very empty.

        “Sammy, you in here?” Dean called out lowly. “Sammy, it’s me, it’s alright, you can c’mon out now.”

        After a few moments of gut-wrenching silence, a small, muffled voice called out, “Dean?”

        So flooded with relief he thought he might cry, Dean managed to keep his voice even, not wanting to scare his brother further. “Yeah, bitch, it’s me!”

        From one of the tall metal cupboards at the back of the room, they heard some shuffling and then the door swung open outwards and Sam tumbled out, gripping a shiny, stainless steel butcher’s knife, looking scared and scuffed up a bit, but intact and thankfully without as much as the shadow of a teeth mark.

        “Dean!” Sam dropped the kitchen knife and ran to him, colliding into his chest with all the force of a freight train and Dean hugged him so tightly he was sure he heard Sam squeak, but it didn’t matter because Sam was hugging him back just as hard and he was alive and well, and most importantly, uneaten or gnawed upon by zombies.

        With a final hard, manly pat to Sam’s back, Dean drew away, swiping surreptitiously at his eyes so his brother wouldn’t tease him for crying and making it a ‘chick flick moment,’ and looked Sam over, trying to assure himself that his brother was fine.

        “You okay?” Dean asked gruffly.

        Sam rubbed at his eyes and nodded. “M’fine.” 

        Benny, who’d been hanging back and watching the doors, came forward now and Sam noticed him immediately and shrunk back against Dean.  
“Who are you?”

        “It’s alright, he’s a friend,” Dean assured him.

        Benny held out his hand in greeting as he had done earlier to Dean. “Benny, at your service. Pleasure to meet you, you must be Sam!”

        Uncertainly, Sam stepped away from Dean and shook Benny’s hand. “Yeah,” the kid replied, brushing his too-long hair out of his face. 

        “Well, alright guys, now that we’re all acquainted, I hate to break up this happy reunion, but we need to get outta here and head somewhere safe. You still set on goin’ to your Uncle Bobby’s house?”

        Dean nodded in assent, even as Sam protested, “But, Dean! What about Mom and Dad?”

        “It’s okay Sam, it’s just like when there’s a bad storm, Mom and Dad always tell us if we get separated, to head to Uncle Bobby’s, it’s the safest place there is, right?”

        Sam bobbed his head in reply, wrapping his arms around himself. He looked very small and helpless to Dean’s eyes right then, and he noticed that Sam wore only a thin t-shirt and jeans. He was sure Sam had been wearing a sweatshirt and jacket earlier when he left this morning.

        “You cold, dude? Where’s your jacket and backpack?”

        “Lost ‘em when I was running from those… _things_. Crap, what about all my homework? I just finished most of it!” Sam looked truly peeved at the loss of all his hard work and Dean chuckled grimly.

        “You can tell your teacher the zombies ate it.”

        “Shut up, jerk.”

        Dean smirked and took his hat off for a moment, pulling his serape over his head and tossing it to Sam.

        “Aww, Dean, no! I don’t wanna wear your dorky blanket!” Sam whined, picking at the serape in distaste.

        “Shut your cakehole and put it on, it’s getting late and it’s cold out and we still have a ways to go til we get to Uncle Bobby’s place.”

        Still grumbling, Sam finally acquiesced and yanked the offensive garment on over his head, wearing a dark scowl, even as Dean tried not to laugh at how ridiculously oversized the serape was on him.

        Benny watched them both with a small, fond smile, before herding them out of the kitchens and back through the cafeteria.

  
  


~*~

        They made it out to the school parking lot without incident, having seen only a couple of zombies stumbling around aimlessly, and managed to duck out of view just in time, crawling away til they were out of sight and then running as quietly as they could for the exits.

        Dean wasn’t looking forward to the trip to Uncle Bobby’s. Sure, it probably wasn’t more than ten, maybe fifteen miles (who knew Clint Eastwood was this funny?) but with a possible horde of the undead out there and the darkness already descending upon them, ten miles almost seemed like half the distance to the moon.

        He was contemplating whether or not his skills would reach far enough for him to hotwire a car like his dad had taught him when Benny tapped his arm and silently pointed down a dark road.

        With a silent nod he tugged at Sammy’s arm following the older boy closely.

        Noises were carried by the wind, too reminiscent of the encounter with the business-man and the jogger, which was still fresh enough in Dean’s memory that it had him raising his shovel up defensively. He was a little relieved when he noticed Benny did the same with his bat, while Sammy, who hadn’t picked up the knife back in the school’s kitchen and therefor was weaponless, just looked around with wide eyes, probably hoping to be an early warning system. Dean couldn’t help the swell of pride at his baby brother who even scared out of his mind was the smartest kid he’d ever met.

        Somehow they made it all the way to a beat up Toyota without encountering any more zombies. That wasn’t to say they didn’t hear screams in the near distance or hear the repulsive noises of someone getting messily devoured, but they moved swiftly and tried to keep to the cover of shadows and trees, not advertising their presence.

        The Toyota was rusted with age and probably older than Dean. It wasn’t a car Dean would normally be caught dead in, but seeing as these were extenuating circumstances (not to mention the doors were unlocked and Benny found the keys hidden in under the seat) he didn’t voice any objections, just made sure Sammy got in before he followed with the shovel, leaving the front seat to Benny. He would’ve liked to have sat up front with Benny, but the way Sam was shivering and looking kinda spooked made him feel bad, so like a good big brother, he made sure he and Sam were both buckled up before slinging his arm around the kid, throwing him a wink and a cocky smile that made him glad it was getting dark enough out so that Sam couldn’t tell it didn’t reach his eyes.

        The drive was silent save for Dean’s occasional directions and before long they were driving through the gates to Bobby’s scrapyard, and both Winchesters were breathing little sighs of relief: This had always been a safe place whether they needed a break from their dad’s strict rules or a safe haven from extreme weather, and in the grand scheme of things zombies and apocalypses probably weren’t all that different.

        Bobby met them at the door with a wickedly sharp looking machete and a relieved, and rather proud smile, that not even his beard could hide. He quickly ushered them inside, with Dean making the introductions as they went. Bobby merely grunted and clapped Benny on the shoulder, saying only, “Glad you boys made it.”

        In sort of a daze, they followed Bobby through the house as he led them past the kitchen and down the hallway to an innocuous looking door that anyone not in the know might have mistaken for just another closet. But Dean knew that once opened, a long set of dimly lit stairs took you down to a huge, well-stocked underground bunker of sorts. Their Aunt Ellen teasingly referred to it as a “panic room,” but with the regularity of bad storms and the danger of tornadoes that came with living in Kansas, the space could easily double as a storm shelter or a hideaway in case of apocalypse, zombie or otherwise.

        Years back, Bobby’d had a weekend off and had gotten bored and built the whole thing in the span of seventy-two hours. Dean thought it was awesome, not to mention, the safest place on Earth. There were several cots already set up, sealed jugs of fresh water lined up against the walls along with canned goods, a couple shelves held battery powered lamps and flashlights, clean clothes and blankets and medical supplies and of course, there was an assload of weapons.

        There were already a few machetes like the one Bobby was wielding laying out on the table waiting to be honed to a razor sharp edge, and a sawed off shotgun was nearby as well. Dean dumped his backpack on one of the cots and plopped down next to it, a little bit at loose ends when it came to what he should do next. His main goals had been to get Sam and then get to safety and he had completed both of them, and now, the adrenaline that had been driving him was starting to slowly wear off and other thoughts were beginning to filter in.

        “Are Mom and Dad here yet?” Dean wondered aloud, thinking also of his school friends, hoping they’d managed to escape to safety as well.

        “Nope, not yet. You three are the first, I’m waitin’ on Ellen and Jo, too,” Bobby answered succinctly, but Dean easily picked up on the undercurrent of worry in his gruff tone.

“Well, you boys make yourselves at home, there’s a fresh pot of chili on the stove and cornbread warming in the oven,” Bobby offered.

        At that, Dean’s traitorous stomach, which had been quiet til now, suddenly reminded him with a mortifyingly loud rumble that he hadn’t eaten since noon, and it was well after 6pm now and he grinned at Bobby sheepishly. Sam, who was always a bottomless pit of hunger, was already licking his chops and heading for the stairs, Bobby following after him most likely to supervise and make sure he didn’t scarf down all the food in one go.

        Dean turned to see Benny sitting a few feet away on another cot, untying his bowtie and pulling off his cape and waistcoat. He’d ditched the fake fangs awhile ago and now, piled the remnants of his costume on the cot next to him, looking as tired and young and totally in over his head as Dean felt.

        “You okay, man?” Dean asked tentatively, moving to sit next to the older boy.

        Benny glanced over at him and tried for a smile. “Yeah, chér, I’ll be alright, just trying to wrap my head around this whole mess. Figure out what to do next.”

        Dean nodded in understanding. “Yeah, me too. I keep wondering what the hell caused all this.”

        Humming thoughtfully, rubbing his knuckles across his stubbled chin, Benny sighed heavily. “Well, I’m sure you can tell by my accent that I ain’t from around here. Down where I hail from in Southern Louisiana, we got all kinds of superstitions and hoodoo. Hell, my ol’ Cajun granny used to spit three times to ward off evil spirits and throw salt on the ground in the form of a cross to keep out people she didn’t like or trust, but this...zombie uprising, strikes me as some kinda bad voodoo or black magic.”

        Dean listened interestedly, it was always cool to learn about the goings on of places outside of boring ol’ Kansas and especially coming from someone like Benny, who already had such a worldly, sophisticated air about him that was highly intriguing and in Dean’s opinion, downright sexy.

        “So you think it has something to do with Halloween, maybe? My history teacher always reminds us every year that it’s actually a pagan festival, Samhain, marking a time when the boundary between this world and the spirit world can be more easily crossed and black magic is also easier to cast then because it’s the darker half of the year or something like that.” Dean was privately amazed that he’d managed to retain that much information on the subject, but then again, their teacher did tell them about it every year for the past four years, so something must have stuck.

         It made a shiver run through him to think that the cause of this so-called zombie apocalypse might have darker, more evil roots than what popular zombie fiction and movies might make it out to be. Usually, in the movies, it was down to some bad reaction to a drug or perhaps a deadly virus infecting the population through an airborne pathogen.

        “Huh, well we certainly saw the ‘darker half’ of humanity today,” Benny observed, huffing out a low laugh. “Who knows what the real cause of it is. I guess what matters now is just trying to survive it.”

        Dean nodded in agreement, thinking again of the business man gnawing away on that jogger’s shin bone like it was some delicious barbecued ribs. It was one thing to see it depicted in movies, or be parodied and made into just one more bloody comedy, but wholly another to see it in honest-to-God vivid technicolor, in all its gory, smelly glory. Was this to be the future of the world? The earth overrun by zombies and fighting for survival and hiding underground?

        Abruptly, Dean had such a visceral longing to see his parents and have them comfort him and Sam and tell them everything was going to be fine and not to worry, that it nearly made him double over, and he felt tears pricking at the back of his eyes. He ducked his head, ashamed of his reaction, and bent down to needlessly fiddle with his shoelaces, but Benny wasn’t fooled.

        Scooching closer to Dean, he curled his arm around the younger boy’s shoulders and drew him in against his side, petting a comforting hand over his short hair.

        “Hey, hey now, it’s alright, chér. We made it here, didn’t we? And your uncle seems to know what he’s doin,’ got a nice set-up here, ready for anything. We’ll be alright, don’t you worry about it. You got me, right here, and I ain’t about to let anything get ya,” Benny soothed, rubbing a hand down Dean’s arm.

        Despite feeling so flustered and worrying about everything, Dean had to admit, it felt damn good to have someone like Benny to lean on and he allowed himself to bury his hot face in the hollow of the older boy’s throat for a few moments, soaking up the warmth and comfort he offered.

        The quiet moment was broken by the insistent growling of Dean’s belly and he pulled away from Benny with an embarrassed chuckle.

        “Guess we’d better feed you, huh? You’re a growing boy, ain’t’cha?” Benny razzed him, poking Dean in the side, causing him to curl up like a hedgehog, giggling because Benny happened to find one of his ticklish spots.

        Benny grinned, pulling Dean to his feet and fluttering his fingers against Dean’s ribs, trying to find another ticklish area, while Dean, lost in helpless gales of laughter playfully batted his hands away.

        “Hey, now, there’s a smile! That’s better, chér,” Benny smiled fondly, chucking Dean under the chin a little.

        Dean sniffed, rubbing his knuckles across his cheek, still giggling slightly. “Why d’you keep calling me chér? What’s that mean?”

        Benny’s cheeks pinkened up and he gave Dean a lopsided smile. “Means ‘sweetheart’ in French and you got a real sweet face,” he teased, winking at Dean saucily.

        “I do _not_ have a sweet face,” Dean grumbled, blushing to his roots, giving Benny a half-hearted shove, ignoring the fact that Benny’s compliment made his pulse beat at triple time and caused butterflies to start practicing aerial ballet in his already agitated stomach.

        “Sure you do, you’re a gonna be a real heartbreaker, I can tell,” Benny proclaimed, smirking and pushing Dean back lightly. “Alright, let’s head upstairs and get some grub before that kid brother of yours eats it all.”

  
  


~*~

        Later, after they’d eaten their fill, tidied up the kitchen and changed into clean clothes, Bobby, Sam, Dean and Benny all filed back downstairs into the panic room, settling down to wait it out, seeing as there wasn’t much else to do. Ellen and Jo hadn’t shown up yet, nor had John and Mary and it was going on 7:30 now.

        Dean saw his own worry reflected back to him in the eyes of Sam and Bobby, the older man especially looking as though he might head out any minute, guns blazing, to go hunt down his wife and daughter and bring them back to safety.  
But if there was any group of people who could take care of themselves, it was the four individuals they waited upon, and so they all tried to distract themselves; Sam buried his nose in an old lore book of Bobby’s, while Bobby kept himself busy sharpening his machetes, field-stripping his guns and checking on the available ammunition. Dean and Benny found an old deck of cards and to Dean’s chagrin, Benny was currently beating the pants off him in a game of five card stud.

        These diversions only lasted for so long, before Sam starting yawning into the old, yellowed pages of his book and Dean too, felt himself nodding off. It had been a very long day, to say the least. The cots, while serviceable, were none too comfortable, so Dean rummaged around and found a few sleeping bags and polypads from past camping trips and layered them on the floor with some extra pillows and blankets, creating a makeshift bed for the three boys to sleep on. Dean made himself comfortable and Sam crawled in immediately after him, snuggling into his side and was out like a light. Benny was a long, warm line of heat against his other side, having made himself cozy before pulling Dean close, draping an arm over his shoulders.

        “Just get some rest now, chér, nothing much to do but wait and time always passes quicker when you’re snoozing,” Benny advised.

        Bobby glanced over at the three of them. “Don’t worry Dean, I’ll wake you up when your folks get here, so try to get some sleep, boy.”

        With these assurances, Dean finally relaxed, letting himself enjoy Benny’s warmth and eventually drifted off to thoughts of what a weird day it had been.

  
  


~*~

        A little while after 9pm, Ellen and Jo finally showed up, clothing torn and blood spattered, but none too worse for the wear. After a quick hug and a kiss for Dean, Ellen reconvened upstairs with Bobby, while Jo got cleaned up and had a meal, after which she joined the boys down in the panic room, tiredly bedding down next to the sleeping Sam, not wanting to be alone, which Dean could totally understand.

        The pit of dread and worry wriggling around in his stomach like live worms kept Dean from actually passing out cold like Sam, but he found himself periodically dozing off then jerking awake, gazing around blearily hoping for the welcome sight of his parents. Benny was slumbering next to him like a bear in hibernation, but on the other side of Sam, much like Dean, Jo was still awake, eyes open and glinting in the low light.

        “How bad was it out there before you guys got here?” Dean whispered.

        “Pretty bad. They were chasing mom and me for awhile and we had to keep trying to lose them before we got to the car. They were everywhere out there,” Jo admitted.

        “Do you think they’ll come here?” Dean asked against his better judgement, almost not wanting to know the answer.

        Jo shivered. “God, I hope not, but I think we’re pretty safe down here, don’t you?”

        “Yeah,” Dean murmured. “Yeah, I sure hope so.”

  
  


~*~

        At long last, around 10:30, John and Mary finally arrived, and Dean let out the breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding, feeling something that had been wound up tight inside him, unclench with relief. Much like Ellen and Jo, their clothing was ripped, dirty and bloodstained and they gripped makeshift weapons in their hands, but they were mostly unharmed.

        His mom hugged him for a full minute, just running her hands over him, assuring herself that he was alive and whole. Sam managed to sleep through the whole thing, but after Mary changed out of her torn and bloodied clothes and had a bite to eat, she cuddled up between Sam and Jo, petting Sam’s overlong hair and kissing Jo’s forehead. Dean introduced his parents to Benny, telling of how Benny had saved his life and helped Sam and Dean make it to the safety of Bobby’s house.

        John eyed him up and down, before shaking his hand firmly and clapping him on the shoulder, thanking him sincerely for helping out his boys. Mary hugged Benny and kissed his cheek, thanking him profusely, til the poor guy was fire engine red all the way from the roots of his hair to the tips of his ears.

        His dad quirked a small smile and raised his eyebrow questioningly at Dean when he saw how close Benny and Dean were standing together, but otherwise made no comment.

        His mother however, wasn’t so subtle. After everyone had settled down once more, Benny and Jo dozing off and John, Bobby and Ellen upstairs, Mary ruffled Dean’s hair, smiling that all-knowing smile that only mothers can pull off.

        “So….?”

        “So, what, Mom?” Dean muttered, trying vainly to play innocent, but aware of the inquisition that was coming.

        “So, what’s the story with the cute boy you brought home?” Mary bounced her eyebrows at him, a Cheshire cat grin on her face.

        Dean ducked his head, his ears already burning and mumbled out, “I dunno..”

        Mary’s grin only widened. “Well, he seems pretty cool to me, he saved your life and all, I wouldn’t be surprised if you were a little sweet on him, what with that charming accent and everything, hmm?”

        “ _Mom_!” Dean whined. “I don’t--I’m not _sweet_ \--would you be quiet, he’ll hear you!”

        But Dean’s stuttered denials only added fuel to the fire and he huffed a loud breath out, folding his arms tightly across his chest and muttering grumpily about nosy mothers.

        Next to him, apparently not as asleep as he had seemed, Benny cracked open one eye and quirked a grin at Dean, nudging him with his elbow. “It’s alright if you’re sweet on me, chér, it’ll be our little secret.”

        On the other side of Mary, Jo softly started singing, “Benny and Dean, sittin’ in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!”

        “Really, Jo?!” Dean rolled his eyes to the heavens and threw up his hands in surrender, in the wake of all the immature giggling going on around him . He was clearly outnumbered here. But deep down, it did give him a warm, fuzzy feeling to know that both of his parents and the rest of his family seemed to approve of Benny, who was the best damn thing out of Dean’s whole weird day.

        Presently, John came down with a very worried look on his face, beckoning to Mary and she followed him back upstairs, throwing a reassuring smile over her shoulder at Dean as she went. The light atmosphere seem to drop back into seriousness, sobering all of them, reminding them of what their situation currently was.

        Despite his mother’s assurances, Dean started to worry once more. It only got worse as he slowly became aware of suspicious noises outside the house, and he elbowed Benny next to him.

        “Can you hear that?” Dean eyed the ceiling with misgivings.

        “Huh, yeah, sounds like groaning and shuffling. Better not be what I think it is,” Benny muttered, looking uneasy.

        With a grunt, Dean crawled out of the blankets and padded up the stairs, cracking open the door and peering out. “Mom, Dad?”

        Soft footsteps approached quickly and then Mary peeked around the corner. “What is it, Dean, are you guys okay down there?”

        “We’re fine. What’s going on out there?”

        Mary’s forehead creased in concern and Dean could tell she didn’t want to say what was going on, but she did anyway. 

        “They’re here.”

        Dean paled. He didn’t have to ask who or rather, _what_ , she meant. The pit of dread in his stomach that had dissipated once they’d reached safety, opened up once more and he gulped roughly.

        “What do we do now?”

        “You are going to stay down there, we’ll handle this,” Mary commanded sternly.

        “But, Mom--” 

        “No, Dean. I want you and your brother where I know you’ll be safe. You all take care of each other down there, alright? Don’t worry, everything will be fine. Now you stay in there until one of us comes down to get you.”

        With those words, she pushed him back inside the panic room and shut the door tightly, locking it firmly behind her.

        Having no other choice, Dean descended only to find Benny and Jo, wide awake and alert, staring at him.

        “Well?” Jo gestured impatiently at him. “What’s going on?”

        “Those things are here, outside the house.”

        “Are they trying to get inside the house!?” Jo’s eyes were large with fright.

        “I don’t know, Mom didn’t tell me,” Dean gritted out in frustration, planting himself next to Benny, fists clenched, wanting to do something, but feeling lost and helpless. Even the comfort of Benny’s strong arm around his shoulder couldn’t dampen his dread.

        As the minutes passed, the noises only grew louder and more frantic outside and it seemed as though more and more zombies were congregating outside. At the sound of gunshots overhead, the four of them huddled together, Sam even rousing from his beauty sleep. Dean felt sorry for the kid, having to wake up to this nightmare and he hugged Sam close, not knowing what else to do.

        The commotion outside was starting to reach a fever pitch, interspersed with gunfire and Dean was about ready to pull his hair out in fright, expecting zombies to come barreling through the door at any moment, when everything just went dead quiet.

        In the deafening silence, the shrill beep of his watch startled him greatly and he glanced down to see that it was 12am on the dot. Midnight.

        The stillness stretched on and the four of them kept trading anxious glances, wondering what had happened out there, but not daring to leave the panic room until one of the adults gave them the all clear.

        After twenty minutes, Dean’d had just about enough and was ready to go upstairs, machete in hand and find out what the hell was going on.

        Jerking free of Benny’s hold, he stomped over to the stairs just as he heard footsteps outside the door, which swung open to reveal his mother.

        She had an odd look on her face that Dean couldn’t decipher, which only made him feel antsier and when she gestured for them to come upstairs, Dean was hot on her heels, Sam, Benny and Jo thundering up the stairs behind him.

        Bobby, John and Ellen were all gathered around the front door, staring outside and the others crowded up beside them, trying to look out as well. 

        The sight that met their eyes was stunning, to say the least, but even more than that, it was just downright mind-boggling and confusing. 

        The front yard and surrounding areas were littered with bodies, all in different stages of decomposition and all of them absolutely _dead_. No twitching or groaning, just inexplicably dead as doornails.

        “Well, don’t that beat all,” Bobby murmured. “At the stroke of midnight they all just dropped dead, like somebody cut their strings...”

        “So...is it...over?” Dean dared to voice the question they were all thinking.

        The adults all shared serious, inquisitive glances with each other, before nodding slowly. “Yeah,” Mary breathed out, “I think it is.” 

        Someone started chuckling and then they all were laughing, on the edge of hysteria, unable to believe their good fortune. Dean hugged Sam and Jo delightedly, before spinning around to face Benny, who gathered him up in a tight hug, before drawing back slightly to plant a kiss right smack on Dean’s surprised mouth. Dean was startled for a few seconds, but quickly melted into it, closing his eyes and reveling in the glorious sensation of Benny’s lips pressing against his, wrapping his arms around Benny’s neck to tug him closer.

        The rapture was short-lived however, as from behind them, Jo and Sam started to make fake gagging noises, which segued into yet another verse of the kissing song being sung again and Dean was sure he’d burst into flames from the sheer embarrassment alone. Even the adults got in on the fun, Ellen pinching his cheeks with a wink, while Mary wore a proud smile and then John came over to clap Benny on the shoulder once more before telling him all about his gun collection.

        But Bobby perhaps put it best, with a twinkle in his eye. “Looks like not even a zombie apocalypse can stop the libido of a teenage boy.”

        The adults dissolved into laughter, while Sam and Jo made kissy faces at the pair and Dean, despite how flustered he was, couldn’t bring himself to be truly upset, after all, he had his whole family around him, plus possibly a brand new boyfriend, and he had survived the goddamned zombie apocalypse to see a new day!

        It was gonna be a good day.

_~*~FIN~*~_

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this story go read some of [Senna's](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Senna_Frost/pseuds/Senna_Frost) other stories, and don't forget to give them kudos and nice comments.
> 
> Or you can come say hi to me on tumblr [@theydraggedmein](https://theydraggedmein.tumblr.com/), where I reblog stuff and don't really do anything :)


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